September, 2006 Archive

Yes, due to the vagary in my routine caused by two twelve-hour night shifts in a row, I missed the Irish turning down the heat on the Boilermakers from Purdue.

As my daughter said, “Notre Dame kicked butt.”

While I counted sheep.

So, in honor of the game and the performance I didn’t see, once again it is time to raise our voices high!

Oh, and Stanford University? Your proverbial butt is ours!

Next week.

Be there or be totally square!

Cheer, cheer for Old Notre Dame
Wake up the echoes cheering her name,
Send the volley cheer on high,
Shake down the thunder from the sky,
What though the odds be great or small
Old Notre Dame will win over all,
While her loyal sons are marching
Onward to Victory.

Gee, maybe I’ll go have a Boilermaker (the alcoholic kind) after work tomorrow morning in celebration……

It looks like he was abducted by aliens and their resident Scotty is ready to beam him up!

Either that or there’s a buffet lunch on that gurney and everyone is standing at the table to partake of the dry croissant sandwhiches, wilted lettuce with french dressing, bottled water and dry chocolate chip cookies.

Hey, that’s what nurses get for a sponsored lunch!

Paid for, of course, by the Electric Furnace Steel sales rep!

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I have been immunized.

I received a DTaP shot.

Just like a baby.

I didn’t cry like a baby, but someone has decided that those of us who did not have, and survive, Pertussis (Whooping Cough), should be reimmunized as adults as our immunity from previous immunizations cannot be guaranteed.

And they are finding cases of it in the community. Hey! Thanks to all you folks who decided not to immunize your kid! Now I’m getting immunized so YOU don’t have to!

Being a grown up, I got the shot in my arm.

And that is where the difference ends.

My arm hurt, I went off my bottle and was cranky for four days.

Of course my “bottle” was Diet Pepsi, but you get the idea.

No wonder these little tykes get so fussy.

I am not, however, showing signs of autism.

Oh…wait, wasn’t that the MMR?

Hah! Been there and had every single one of them!

I’m from the generation who believed in immunity by active infection…..

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I actually decided to post after a very busy four-hour shift.

During the 240 minutes I was working, I spent 25 minutes on two Medication Reconcilliation Forms while triaging.

Ten-percent of my workday was spent on these two pieces of paper.

Both patients knew their meds, but they had to think of the doses and when they last took them.

Both patients were on, I kid you not, ten medications each.

And of course every medication came with an explanation. It’s not like Sgt. Friday on Dragnet. The questioning is succinct, but the answers aren’t.

Of course, we are no longer allowed to write just the name of the medication down on the sheet, even if there is no chance the patient will be admitted.

We must fill out the dosage, the instructions, and time last taken.

On everybody.

And we have to ask because if they don’t know, we actually have to write “DNK” for “Does Not Know” everytime they don’t know.

Now, we nurses are an adapatable bunch. We simply took our med list off the triage notes so we would not have to double chart.

Fair enough.

But now, if every single box isn’t full with either a number or “DNK”, we don’t get full “credit” for doing it.

I’ll say it before and I’ll say it again: it is the admitting doctor’s responsibility to ascertain the dosages of the patient and write the appropriate orders.

Instead, they can simply write a check mark next to the list that the nurses compile and that constitutes an order.

Oh, they love those of us who do those medication reconcilliation forms nice and neat and precise.

Because they don’t have to.

As I’ve noted before, I often feel like a scrubbing bubble in the toilet bowl of health care.

Only what I do is never enough.

When it comes to finding a way to frustrate, over-work and add ridiculous amounts of paperwork to the nurses,

They (JACHO?) will always find a way.

And we will continue to jump through the hoops.

Because we will get “dinged” if we don’t.

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On a lighter note, my 94-year-old patient kissed me on the cheek before getting into her taxi.

How I can be so frustrated by my job and love it so much at the same time is amazing.

About Me

My name is Kim, and I'm a nurse in the San Francisco Bay area. I've been a nurse for 33 years; I graduated in 1978 with my ADN. My experience is predominately Emergency and Critical Care, and I have also worked in Psychiatry and Pediatrics. I made the decision to be a nurse back in 1966 at the age of nine...